


They Just Don't Know You

by orphan_account



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Artist and Bully au, Chloè redemption, Excessive Fluff, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Miraculous Ladybug AU, Slow Burn, mentions of lovesquare, project partners au, redemption arc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-05-31 05:41:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6458113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say there's no point in dwelling on rejections; that they're nothing more than a step closer to your goal, but if the rejections occur often, you start feeling as if you never really begun with an achievable goal.</p><p>But what if those constant rejections were just re-directing you to something better?</p><p>Or; Chloe and Nathanaël unexpectly keep bumping into each other and start dwelling on the fact that Adrien and Marinette are perfect for each other and there's nothing they can do about it</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rejection

**Author's Note:**

> And I'm here to deliver some unpopular ship material. I'm not the best writer but hey, I try, and I'm happy with my work, so hopefully you will be too.

Chloè was used to rejection. 

"But Adrikins, she doesn't understand you like I do. Wouldn't you want to come shopping with me instead?" She stuck her bottom lip out and batted her eyelashes, clinging onto his arms as they descended the steps in front of the school. 

Adrien slowly pushed her off and reached his arm around to scratch his neck awkwardly. "Look, Chloè. I promised Marinette I'd go to the movies with her. Alya and Nino are coming to, so it's not like a date... I think." He politely declined her offer with a measly smile, trying to step around her. 

She sighed to herself, knowing full-well that it will end up like a date. 'Marinette had guys falling for her left and right. Why couldn't she leave one for me! Especially one who was my friend first!' She shook her head, shaking away the thought of Marinette always beating her. 

"Obviously. You dating her? Don't make me laugh." She smirked a sour smirk, resting a hand on her hip before continuing. "But seriously, don't make me laugh, it will ruin my make up." 

Adrien looked towards the limousine and back at her. "I...gotta run. I told them I'd meet them there. See you later, Chloè. Have fun shopping." He sent her a gentle wave before driving off. 

"Oooh, rejected. Again." She heard a voice echo from behind her. "When is she going to realise he doesn't like her?" Refusing to turn around, she hoisted her bag onto her shoulder and made her way to the car her father sent to pick her up. She frowned when she could hear the same voice laughing. The heavy feeling in her chest seemed to get heavier and heavier the more he laughed, causing her to bite her lip. 

She waited for the butler to open the door for her and slided in, making herself seem as small as possible. She looked down towards her lap and squeezed her stinging eyes shut, almost missing the feeling of a teardrop land on her lap. 

 

\-------

Nathanaël wasn't having that much luck, either.  
He stopped Marinette and Alya several minutes ago, but struggled to get the question out. He eventually murmered 'movies?' to her, and thankfully she understood. 

"A-are you asking me to the movies?" He nodded at her question, refusing to meet her eyes. By the tone of her voice, he already knew the answer. 

"Look, I'm...I'm already going to the movies with Adrien. I'm sorry. I just see you as a friend." Marinette gave him a pitiful smile before getting pulled away by Alya, leaving him standing there alone. He knew it. She'd never settle for him. Besides, she deserved better, anyway. 

He sighed and kicked a pebble on the pavement, shoving his hands in his pockets, walking home alone. 

Stupid Adrien, always being better than him with his stupid face and stupid blonde hair and stupid famous father. He...he isn't that great. 

Who was he kidding, Adrien Agreste was all every girl could want and more. He was attractive, kind-hearted and loyal. He had a great smile and a great personality to match. Everyone knew the name Adrien Agreste. All Nathanaël had was his artworks he rarely showed anyone and his hair was the only reason anyone noticed him at all. 

He started crossing the road near his house, raising his eyebrow at the lack of traffic on a Wednesday afternoon. He heard a car horn, but figured it was probably too far away for him to worry about, so he kept walking with his head turned to the ground. 

"Look out!" A voice called, making him jolt his head up in panic. He spotted a car headed straight for him. 'Oh, you messed up real good this time...' He thought to himself. 

His feet were stuck on the ground, as if right where he stepped had globs of adhesive, just waiting for him, but the rest of his body was trembling; his heart was beating one million miles a minute, his hands were shaking and all sweaty, and he was short of breath. The car got closer and closer, and his legs felt heavy. He shut his eyes, waiting for the inevitable inpact. 

"Nathanaël!"


	2. Why Didn't She Run Me Over When She Had The Chance?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What do you mean Chloè Bourgeois let someone live?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish I could write longer chapters... ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> I'm alright at writing dialogue, but I can't seem to write anything else. Oh well. Guess it's a learning experience. 
> 
> (Not edited)

Nathanaël's eyes shot wide open, like a dear caught in headlights, or in this case, a lonely artist caught in headlights. The driver of the car looked angry, as he turned around to talk to whoever the passenger was. He nodded, before unbuckling his seatbelt and stepping out of the car. 'Well, the car didn't kill me, but this guy might.'

"Are you alright, kid? I almost turned you into a pancake." 'Or not...'

"I'm fine. Just...shocked. I didn't notice the c-car and..." The driver held his hand up, pausing Nathanaël in his stuttered explanation. 

"No need for an explanation. Miss Bourgeois insisted we drive you the rest of the way home. To apologise for the," he eyed him distastefully, "inconvenience."

"With all due respect, sir, I think I can manage a few more bl-did you just say Bourgeois?"

"Yes. Miss Chloè Bourgeois is waiting in the back." Why would Chloè want to help him? There must be a catch: no one can develop human emotions because your driver almost straight up ran someone over. 

He looked towards the back of the car for the first time, noticing Chloè's blonde hair hanging out the back window. Was she...watching them? Was she eavesdropping?

"Tell her thanks, but no thanks." 

The chauffeur leaned in slightly and put his hand up to his face, shielding his mouth from Chloè's direction. "Let's just say 'insist' is putting it lightly. It was a direct order." 

He looked up in annoyance before sighing. "I have no choice, do I?"

"Indeed you don't. She's on the right side, so slide in on the left." 

Nathanaël nodded numbly and walked to the opposite side of the car, taking a deep breath as he reached for the door handle. 

'Why would she want to help someone like him? She's treated him bad in the past, so maybe she's trapping him in a confined space to make sure he can't run away...'

"Are you gonna get in the car or what?" The door flung open, throwing him to the ground. He looked up to see Chloè on the seat, almost lookinf apologetic. Almost. "Car doors don't open themselves, art nerd." She scooted back over in her seat and crossed her arms. This is what she gets for trying to help someone, just a confused weirdo from her class. 

"I...I know that." He muttered

"Don't you know how to look when you cross a street? Left, right, left again."

"I'm not a child." He muttered under his breath, refusing to make eye contact with her. 

She hummed with a smirk. "You sure act like one."

Deciding to ignore her, he looked out of the window, watching the buildings in a blur. Every now and then the car would slow down for him to properly focus on something, like an elderly couple sitting outside a bakery happily talking, or a woman walking her dog. Things like that made perfect photographs, they were simple, but with the right lighting, it could capture a moment perfectly. 

Sure, he loved to draw, but what he loved even more was to capture a moment. From something as simple as people talking to something spectacular like the sun rising or setting. Like fireworks framing the Eiffel Tower on New Years or a frog on a windowsill. As long as it was something he could later put into perspective, it made him happy. 

"So he told you we're taking you home?" He was snapped back to reality by something poking his shoulder. He felt his happiness and contentment drain away at the sound of her voice. 

"T-take me home?" He'd never heard her say anything that wasn't insulting or about herself; he was honestly expecting something along the lines of 'how dare you make me late for my 4 o'clock appointment. I'm telling daddy.' It kind of took him aback. 

"It's not like we're going to leave someone on the side of the road. You could report us in to the authorities!" There it is. 

"Isn't your father 'the authorities?'" You know, it's not like she shoved it down everyones throats that her father is the mayor or anything...

"My father is the mayor." Again, there it was.  "But mayors can get arrested too, you know."

Seeing no reason to continue the conversation, he looked back out of his window, but frowned when he realised where they were. 

"Didn't you s-say you were taking me home?" His breathing started to become sharp intakes of breath. If by 'home' she meant her house, he'd stick out like a sore thumb. Not because of his hair, no, but because of literally everything else. The Bourgeois Manor was prim and proper and all things Nathanaël wasn't. 

He crossed his fingers. 'Please don't say your house, please don't say your house..."

"You didn't think we'd be driving to your dump, did you? We're going to my house." 

Damn it.  


End file.
